Two To One

Chapter Three: Journey

Four horses trotted along the dirt road. Their hooves churning dust from the rutted lane where countless wagons had passed. Clip-clopping along they paced the slowly drifting clouds hanging from above. The trees and shrubs nearest the road were coated with a thick layer of film that dulled their colors and weighted their leaves.

The sun was still a short way above the horizon but the surrounding forests were already dim. The travellers rode along with eyes glazed and heads bowed, and the exhaustion of the day's travel weighed heavily on their shoulders.

Ciranon rode behind the others, less aware of his surroundings than the rest. The dust continually made him sneeze and choke and the kerchief he had tied over his face had hardly filtered the fine powder. It was true, thought the city-bred musician, that they were roughing the wild, but this was too much to bear. He could only imagine what he looked like with all the dust flying about.

He looked at his comrades, thinking about how odd people were. Mark rode ahead of the others, constantly looking around for danger. The warrior was a strange person when it came to friends, thought Ciranon. Him and Gammon had been together for at least two decades and the two hardly argued. They had some kind of rapport that outsiders never saw. Ciranon envied that.

Gammon and Jenni rode a dozen yards back from Mark, speaking together in low tones. There was another odd combination. With them it was a meeting of two worlds; two spheres of magic in two completely different people. Ciranon wondered how the two could talk when they had such different views on life, but somehow they were true friends, trusting to the point of death.

Ciranon coughed again and brushed a cloud of dust from his shoulder. He was deathly tired of riding. Even though they had been on the road for hardly more than a week the journey wore him out by the end of each day. He stopped in mid-thought and corrected himself as he adjusted the kerchief. He was only savagely exhausted, a marked improvement over the first several days of the trip.

He wondered again why he had ever agreed to go on such an excursion. Come to think of it, he didn't remember agreeing to the journey in the first place. He remembered meeting Jennifer and Mark after Gammon had asked him to sing at the Grey Chimera and he remembered the mood he had been in. It had been a long time since he had seen his old friends and he had been glad to see them, but it had evoked so many memories. Funny how the good memories seemed to overshadow the bad after so many years.

He remembered Thanduin and his tale of the cannibalistic theologians. Could such a people have really existed? He couldn't imagine eating human flesh. The very idea seemed to make his insides do jumping jacks.

And when were they ever going to reach those damn ruins anyway? He hated the idea of staying on the horse any longer than necessary, and even less if possible. How long had the wizard said they would be on the road? He didn't quite remember. All that came to mind was the thought of people screaming as the cauldron bubbled around them.

What happened then? He thought about it for several miles. The next thing I remember is riding out of the town as the sun came over the trees. I don't think I had more than four pitchers. He mulled on that a while, chewing on his lip and screwing up his face. Oh well. I've been wrong before. I've been drunk too, but that never seems to stop me from doing it again. He smiled and remembered the cool amber fluids. I sure could use one of those pitchers right about now.

A humorous little tune came to mind and he ran the first few lines through his head. As he opened his mouth to sing the first words, something about alcohol and memory on the mornings after, he thought about the continuous complaints he had received during the first few days of their journey. He scowled and bit back the ditty, glancing at his companions. "Music critics!" he muttered.

He watched the sun for a while as it approached the horizon. He could see Mark up ahead looking from one side of the road to the other. Either the man's senses are incredible and we're in for trouble, or the arrogant ass is looking for a campsite. Ciranon breathed a sigh and stretched his screaming back as Mark turned to the others and pointed to a clearing slightly off the road. As the others rode off the path and dismounted, pulling at the straps and tethers of their saddles, Ciranon stopped his horse where he was and climbed down.

Nasty animals, he thought, giving the beast a dirty look. Why couldn't you have been born with cushions and a backrest like any good wagon? He stretched his legs and led the horse off the trail.

While Jennifer bedded down the horses, Mark and Ciranon collected enough firewood to last the evening. Gammon kicked all the loose sticks into the middle of the clearing and arranged the larger rocks into a loose circle. When that was done he placed his hands together in a vee and aimed them at the circle. As he mumbled a few words under his breath his hands began to glow slightly. Suddenly the space between his hands exploded outward, a bright cascade of flames which lit the entire clearing as they spilled like a burning waterfall into the circle of rocks. The sticks and leaves snapped and crackled cheerily among the flames as Gammon closed his hands to stop the flow and seated himself beside the campfire.

As the sun hid itself behind the distant mountains the small group of adventurers settled into their campsite, silently going about the evening chores of bedding the horses and preparing the evening meal. Hardly a word was spoken. All were completely absorbed into their own thoughts, running on routine.

Ciranon thoughtfully poked at the fire as he watched Jennifer pull her bedroll over herself and sink into sleep. What a woman, he thought. So damn independent. So strong. He had known the woman a long time, even if you didn't count the time she had been closed up in that damn convent, and all that time she had been in complete control. He wished life could be so easy for himself.

Then he remembered how she had looked at Mark when they were at the Grey Chimera. He had seen that set of her eyes at other times before the group had split up, and was almost certain what it meant. Come to think of it, he had seen it when she looked at Gammon too. That was something different, though. He didn't know exactly how, but he could tell that she had strong feelings for both of them.

Suddenly he grimaced and threw the last piece of wood on the fire and stomped from the clearing. The world wasn't such a fun place to be anymore.

Ciranon walked carefully through the dark trees, his legs constantly pulled and snagged by the surrounding underbrush. He pushed his way past a particularly thick patch and found himself in another clearing. His eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and he settled to the business at hand, the first watch.

The group had set a routine early in the journey for night watch, and since Ciranon was the only one who had trouble getting to sleep at night he was naturally the one to take the first watch. It wasn't because he wasn't tired, he thought. He was perhaps the most exhausted in the whole party. The truth of the matter was that he was naturally a person of the evening. He had spent so many years staying up late with performances and parties that he just couldn't change the pattern.

After an hour of fumbling through the woods Ciranon found a fallen tree and rested his legs. He had circled the campsite three times, and felt confident he knew the layout of the surrounding area. He resisted the urge to burst into song for the fiftieth time since dinner. The peaceful silence made it easier to be quiet, but old habits are strong and an especially memorable tune had come to mind. A smile flickered across his face and he contented himself with the memory, helped along by a softly hummed melody.

A rustle in the brush caught his attention and he pulled his short sword from it's scabbard. The weapon made a low hiss as he drew it and he silently cursed himself for not oiling the thing for the last two days. As the bushes rattled again he thought he saw a flicker of movement among the leaves. He silently crept through the brush, his muscles tense and his nerves on end.

When the noisy thicket was close enough for Ciranon to nearly reach out and touch with his blade he stopped. As he looked into the dark underbrush he again saw something moving behind the branches and leaves. His brow creased and a puzzled expression crossed his face.

He let out a yelp, and fell onto his back as one of the shadows detached itself from the darkness and bounded from his chest. Just as suddenly the thing was gone, running and leaping through the bushes in terrified abandon. He got to his feet and listened to the small animal scurry away and cursed himself for a fool.

Behind him he heard other sounds, larger and less natural creatures making their way through the trees. He spun around, expecting to find the trolls or goblins he imagined had waited for just such a distraction to complete their ambush. He broke into relieved laughter as Mark appeared out of the shadows, followed closely by Jennifer and Gammon.

"What's the matter?" Ciranon asked as Mark stopped before him. "Couldn't bear to let me have all the excitement?" As he spoke Jennifer stepped up beside Mark and looked him over with a concerned expression.

"We heard you cry out and came to help." Jennifer's look of concern turned to disgust. "I should have guessed you would be playing around. What happened?"

"Well, if you must know, I saw a rabbit and thought I would get us some fresh meat for the morning meal." He resheathed his sword and crossed his arms before him. "I had honestly thought that the rest of you might actually appreciate that. I may not be a powerful wizard or a mighty warrior, but I can take care of myself." He turned on his heel and walked into the trees, leaving the others to look at each other quizzically and return to the warmth of their bedrolls.

A half an hour later he realized he had made a full circuit of the area again and stopped to find the log he had rested on before. Ciranon seated himself again and quickly lost himself in thought. He wasn't some child who needed his hand held every time he turned around. He wished the others would realize that and respect him for his abilities. Sometimes he hated the way they always treated him like some brat from the royal orphanage.

A sound from a nearby bush caught his attention, and he cursed the rodent that had embarrassed him earlier as he picked up a stone and tossed it into the bushes. Nothing happened and after a few moments Ciranon wondered why the missile hadn't scared away the creature.

Just as he bent down to pick up another rock something large and green leaped out of the bushes and carried him over the log and onto his back. Strong scaly fingers clawed his face and closed on his throat, cutting off his breath. In the distance he could hear Mark yelling at him to keep it down so people could sleep. A lifetime passed before he closed his hand around the short sword but when he finally yanked it free he had little trouble sheathing it in the belly of the reptilian creature breathing on his face.

The creature screamed and fell to the side, away from the biting weapon. Ciranon gasped and just as quickly choked from the thing's foul odor that hung like a cloud around him. His breath came in tearing heaves, but he stood and looked around into the darkness as three more of the creatures rose out of the shadows.

Rage filled the Bard's sight as he stared first at the thing he had just killed and then at the creature's brothers which were patiently surrounding him. Although they had the general size and shape of a man, they were far from human. Scaled green skin covered their stooped bodies, and their large yellow eyes nearly glowed in the darkness. He had never seen or heard of anything like them and had no idea what they were, but he was sure they were out for his hide. His fear and repulsion of the monsters helped him keep his anger under control.

He cleared his mind as Gammon had taught him and prepared himself to cast a spell. As the words flowed through his thoughts and poured from his lips he cocked his left hand for a throw. As he spoke the unnatural words of power his hand filled with an eerie yellow light and when the words had stopped he threw his insubstantial weapon into the face of the nearest creature. At once it screamed with inhuman terror and pain as the light filled it's eyes. The creature fell to the ground clawing at it's face.

Pain tore at Ciranon's right shoulder and he whipped around just in time to avoid having his throat ripped out. The short sword flickered and one of the creatures hands fell to the ground.

"Yeah!" yelled Ciranon. "Take that you mother...ooff!" He fell to the ground on his face and felt a crushing weight on his back as another jumped him from behind.

Ciranon screamed as the attacker ripped it's claws into his back. He felt his consciousness slipping from him as the talons stripped the cloth and flesh from his shoulders and ribs, yet he was held fast by the weight pinning him to the ground. He thrashed and turned, but to no avail.

With a strange thunk the mauling stopped with an unnerving suddenness. Ciranon closed his eyes and let the intense pain slip into the duller end of the spectrum. The weight fell from his back and for a moment he thought he was going to die. So this is what it's like, he thought. Painful, bot quite as bad as he had been fearing his entire life.

Suddenly he opened his eyes with shock at the revelation. He found himself still lying on his face in the earthy smelling humus, but before his face a pair of luminous yellow eyes and a toothy lizard-like mouth gaped at him from a hungry reptilian face. A brief cry escaped him as he rolled away from the terrible thing only to bump into something else. He looked quickly to discover a decapitated body on the moldering leaves, then realized that he had originally been looking at the thing's head.

As he stood he felt gentle hands helping him up and the intensity of his wounds hit him again with renewed force. Darkness claimed him for a time.

He awoke at the campsite, once again on his belly. He could hear Jennifer chanting words of healing above him and the agony in his back was sinking to a throb. Before long the pain was gone and she gently helped him roll over onto his back so she could work on his torn throat and scratched face.

Ciranon looked up at Mark standing above him. The warrior stood with his sword sheathed and his arms crossed, looking down at the bard. The sour expression on his face made Ciranon nervous, but he didn't have to stay uncomfortable for long. As he gazed at the big man Mark spoke.

"I never thought I would see the day I would have to say this, but thank you." He turned away in disgust for a moment and then looked back. "You did a good job out there. We all owe you. If you hadn't been on the alert those things would have slaughtered us in our sleep." He turned on his heel and stepped into the shadows.

"You'll be alright now," Jennifer said as she pulled a blanket up to his shoulders and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Even the scars will be gone by morning as long as you get some sleep. Rest now."

Ciranon didn't see her leave. He was asleep before she finished speaking.